


Delays and Directions

by wnnbdarklord



Series: Encounters verse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who
Genre: Crossover, Ficlet, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wnnbdarklord/pseuds/wnnbdarklord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's in trouble yet again and Donna has no time to be standing around chin-wagging with some strange bloke!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delays and Directions

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an TTH FFA entry. Also, Doctor Who has eaten my brain. I seem to be gaining fandoms as soon as I exhaust reading the available fics. It's a sort of prequel to Encounters in the Fourth Dimension. Also, any comments most appreciated!

 

          "I am going to kill that skinny streak of alien nothing!" Donna fumed, stalking down the street.

          It was so typical of him to wander off and get captured while she had been sightseeing. Five minutes! It had only taken him five minutes to get captured! It was like he was trying to set a record or something. And now she was stuck in the past, helplessly getting lost while trying to search for the Doctor.

          She was so busy angrily contemplating the various ways she was going to maim the Doctor when she caught up with him that she waked right into someone. Cursing, she almost fell to the ground in a tangle of period appropriate skirts and petticoats.

          "Alright there, love?" an amused voice asked. She looked up to see a young man, all blue eyes and cheekbones, dressed in scruffy clothes and a long battered coat. Donna would probably have started flirting with the man who had caught her had it not been for her worry, anger and the sudden sensation of wandering hands.

          "Oi!" she batted them away, "Hands to yourself, mate!"

          Chuckling, he let go of her but didn't back out of her personal space.

          "Name's Spike, love. Where are you off to in such a rush?"

          "Not that it's any of your business," Donna pushed him away, (_was he _sniffing_ her?!_)"but I'm looking for a friend of mine."

          "Oh, is that how it is?" he gave a filthy leer.

          "Don't get fresh with me, sunshine! I'm not in the mood. Especially with someone named after a dog!"

          Donna glared at him, her hands on her hips. Spike wasn't bothered at all by her glare. Instead, he leaned against the wall of a building, watching her intently. People taking an evening stroll in the old London streets paid them no attention.

          "This friend of yours," Spike started casually, sizing her up with a casual leer.

          "Yeah?"

          "He wouldn't be a skinny bloke, crazy hair, long brown coat?"

          "That's him alright," Donna snorted, "did you see where he ran off to?"

          Spike smirked. "Nope."

          "But you just said- that's it, mate! Either you've seen him or you haven't. I'm not in the mood to play your games. Now you tell me where he is or I'll slap that smirk right off your face!" She raised her hand to do just that. A flicker of annoyance crossed the man's face. He shifted his stance slightly and if Donna hadn't been so pissed off, she would have had the good sense to be afraid. Well, noone had accused her of having any good sense yet, especially after running after a timetravelling alien.

          "He didn't _run_ off anywhere," Spike drawled, "I saw him being _dragged_ off down to the factories."

          Donna grew very still. Had Spike known her better, he would have recognized the warning signs of an imminent slap.

          "You saw him being dragged off? And you didn't help him?"

          He shrugged.

          "Why would I? If the Cult of Braknor wants him, they can have him. S'not like he'll actually be their prophecied 'Lonely God'. That lot couldn't find a worthy sacrifice for their lord and destroyer even if it was right in front of them. Besides, Angelus'd be right pissed if he found me mucking about their business."

          "Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!"

          "No really, the Braknor are bloody territorial and Angelus is shit scared of messing with them," he gleefully said, "Wonder what would happen if I _did_ muck up their plans?" Spike mused.

          "I don't care about their bloody plans!" Donna yelled. A few people cast disapproving glances their way, before hurrying off. Spike looked entirely too amused at her outburst. Donna breathed in deeply, trying to reign in her temper.

          "Right. Well, every few hundred years they go on a 'holy search'," the sarcasm was dripping from his voice, "for the 'most venerable vessel' for their Bringer of Darkness. The Cult of Braknor are the most pathetic bunch of demon worshipers I've ever seen."

          "It's always some sacrifice, innit?" Donna bit out, ignoring everything else in his speech, "It's like he just can't help getting into these messes. When I find him, I'll drag his skinny Time Lord arse back to the TARDIS in pieces. See him recover from that."

          "What, no 'what the hell are you talking about?', no 'demons aren't real?', nothing? Not even a bit of screaming?" he sounded innordantly dissappointed.

          "It'll take more than some alien demons to get me screaming, sunshine. Now, where'd they take him?"

          "Relax, love. It's not like he's really the 'Oncoming Storm' the cult needs."

          "Believe me, with the way his luck goes there's no way he's not the one they're looking for," she sounded resigned. The Doctor had a right bloody knack for getting into these situations.

          "Still," Spike grinned, slinking closer to Donna, brushing her hair from her neck, "no need to rush-"

          "Oi!" she jerked away. "Back off, sunshine or you'll be getting the Oncoming Slap!"

          Spike growled – actually growled at her and took another step forwards. Donna slapped him.

          "Bitch!" he yelled, staring at her, his eyes tinged yellow. Donna's eyes widened, but she stood her ground. She could panick about his murderous inhuman glare later. What was it about aliens (or whatever he was) that they couldn't help but pop up in London all of the time?

          "And there's more where that came from!" she rallied, raising her arm threateningly again, "Now, if you wouldn't mind – some directions please!"

          The glare faded into incredulity. Spike stared at her, mouth open slightly.

          "You cheeky little bint," his tone carried a hint of admiration.

          "Sometime this evenin'!"

          "Down the road, take a left, you should see the factory chimneys from there," he blinked.

          "Right," she nodded, "Thanks for nothing! And if I see you again, whatever you are, it's more than a slap you'll be getting!" She threw over her shoulder, running down the cobblestone street the best she could in her shoes. Spike simply stared after her.

          "Right, next time: bite first, talk later."

  
Fin


End file.
